Hotel Room
by anakinlove
Summary: Batman and his former partner Nightwing have a chance to reconnet. Lots of cuddling and snuggles and stuff. I did not draw the image. It's not mine. I can't draw.


**Author's note: I did not draw the attached image. I cannot draw but I can go on other people's tumblr's and "borrow" their art. I'm very good at that. None of the pictures I use will ever be mine. **

I am sleeping on the bed next to him, so close I can feel him breathing. Now, before you start thinking wow that's weird or any other comments slightly less benign, really, it's not. It's a small hotel room with only one bed so we crammed in there together. It's a small bed too and even though I'm not all that big of a guy, he's enormous.

In order for me not to fall off the bed, I had to be pressed up rather close. It's not as if I care all that much. I mean really, he is like my dad. There's also the fact that the hotel room is cold, he is warm and I had missed him. I'd missed him quite a lot in fact, more than I had originally thought.

His breathing is slow, smooth and even; he is deep asleep. Now, this, in and of itself, is a bit odd because Batman doesn't normally sleep particularly deeply. My presence must be soothing him. I have to admit, lying hip to hip with him is rather comforting. There's something about him that makes me feel… well… safe I guess.

I roll over onto my side to face the wall. Unconsciously, he moves closer to me, wrapping his great arms around my waist so that we're spooning and muttering something in my ear. "Bruce", I hiss, elbowing him in the chest, "Bruce, get off me." He nuzzles my neck and murmurs something about a party and what a pretty lady I am. He must think I'm one of his girls. Great, just great. "Bruce", I growl again. He gives a grunt and opens one eye.

"You're not Lashika", he mutters.

"No, I'm not", I reply, "I figured I ought to inform you before you start doing something to me we'll both regret." He gives me a sleepy, playful grin.

"I woulda figured it out eventually." He obligingly moves back a bit from me. "You know, I can tell this is becoming awkward for you, why don't I just go crash in the car."

"No", I say quickly, feeling sudden concern for him because this is a rather dangerous place, "stay here. I'm fine." He blinks at me in the darkness and sits up. I can see him shivering. I'm in long pajamas and socks and I'm cold, so I can't imagine how he feels, bare chest and wearing nothing but his boxers.

Bruce hates to sleep wearing too much clothing. In fact, if he wasn't sleeping with me, he might even be sleeping naked. As it is, he had the decency to cover up a bit since I was to be in bed with him.

When I lived with him, he always had to at least wear boxers, since, especially when I was little, I had the tendency to crawl into bed with him. I wasn't sure quite why he hated wearing pajamas to bed. I had asked him once and he had mumbled something about feeling trapped, whatever that meant. I didn't know clothes could be such a prison.

"I can go to the car", he offers again, "I don't mind." I shake my head. "Suit yourself, how's about I take the floor then. If Kory walks in and sees me nibbling on you, it could make things a little awkward." I giggle.

"It'll be ok, you'll freeze to death on the ground." Bruce rolls his eyes and gives me a playful shove. It's then that I realize how much I really did miss him. Since my work with the Titans has been escalating and Bruce has been busy with Jason, we haven't been on a mission together in ages. It's nice to be on one now.

We're here, with the Titans, investigating some Siberian drug dealings. Unfortunately, there also happens to be a minor insurrection going on and everyone is tense. They don't like Americans this far north at all. In fact, the Titans and I might not have been able to gain the trust of our contact had it not been for the timely appearance of "Matches" Malone, who just happened to be in Russia investigating some Gotham ties to Siberian weapons.

He kind of bailed us out, something that made me feel moderately annoyed with him. It wasn't as if he was here on purpose to embarrass me. In fact, he was doing his best not to, I could tell. I hadn't spoken with him in months and I knew he'd missed me, so I appreciated him not jumping all over me to see if I was ok.

I am eighteen and definitely should not have been that touchy, but I am. He has actually been pretty cool about the whole thing, offering to help since his business was done and all that. I didn't want to take his assistance, but I would have looked like a child had I not, so I did.

He took us through the city, briefed us on what he'd seen and even bought us a couple beers, despite the fact that we were all underage. Bruce was always kind of open about alcohol, something I'd noticed when I first started living with him.

I had been playing cars in my room for the whole evening because Bruce was downstairs playing poker with some of the men from the JLA, his "friends". I bounded down the stairs after a little while because I was getting bored. Bruce was yelling at Clark just as came up next to him. "Clark, hah! In your face, what now!"

"Bruce", Clark said dryly, "Must you rub it in every time you beat me?"

"Yup."

"Bruce", I said insistently, pulling on him, "I'm bored." Bruce scooped me up and put me down on his lap.

"Well, you can watch me win then." I noticed his glass right about that time, sitting beside his poker chips.

"What's that?" I asked, poking the goldenish liquid in his glass.

"That's beer baby bird, you wanna try some?"

"Yea", I said, nodding exuberantly.

"Bruce", Clark said, appalled, "he's a minor, he can't be drinking anything!"

"Ohh, it's alright", Ollie said, "he can have a little. What's the harm?"

"Here you go kiddo", Bruce said, handing me the glass, "just a little bit though." I tipped the glass and took a little sip. The glass dropped on the ground, shattering with the beer going everywhere.

"Yucky", I wailed, sticking out my tongue. Bruce and the others roared with laughter and I, the bad taste still stinging my tongue and assuming they were making fun of me, starting crying. Bruce stopped laughing almost immediately, and stood up, cuddling me.

"Aww Dickie bird, it's ok, we're not laughing at you."

"Why would you wanna drink that? It's yucky."

"I don't usually drink son, but you're right, it is yucky, so don't ever start drinking." He still tells that story when he gets into his little "my kid is cuter than your kid" battles at work, but from that day on, I didn't ever start up drinking. This was probably a good thing, because alcohol is such a problem with teenagers these days. I wondering how he was gonna handle all that stuff with Jason. After all, I was a good kid and I listened, mostly, but Jason had a head on him.

Anyway, Bruce knew about how little I liked beer and so slipped me a little bit of red wine, which was nice. After that, we'd gotten some rooms in a kind of sleazy hotel and I'd opted to share with Bruce so he no one else would have to share with him. Gar, Joey and Victor crammed into one and Donna, Raven and Kory stuffed themselves into another. But, the beds are bigger in those rooms so it wasn't quite as bad.

I turn to Bruce, thinking about old times. He's looking out the window. Feeling the sudden urge to be near him, I crawl up, lying up against him, as on his lap as I can be, with my head on his chest. Shock registers in his eyes for a moment before he puts his arms around my middle. I breathe easily.

"How are you?" he asks, "Have you been ok?"

"Fine", I reply, "I've been great."

"Are you happy?"

"Yea, I am."

"You're a good leader; I'm proud of you." I grin up at him, feeling warm at his praise. He combs my hair back with his fingers, placing a tiny kiss there on my forehead. I purse my lips and playfully brush his nose. He grins at me. We haven't had time like this in ages.

"Have you been injured lately?"

"I got a gash in my side, but we stitched it up nice and tight."

"Let me see," Bruce orders. I'd get snappy with him, reminding him he is no place to give orders, not anymore, but I know it'll do no good. This is just the way he is. Anyway, he's concerned and he gets domineering when I get hurt. As a result, I grant him so leeway and roll over onto my side, pulling up my shirt.

I feel his fingers prob the wound briefly. He nods after a moment. "Looks pretty good; almost healed."

"Told you", I reply sassily. He pulls my shirt down and strokes my spine.

"Jason got a really bad one the other day, but he's pretty good about pain, a lot like you, so we got it cleaned and stitched up pretty quick."

"How are you and Jason?" I ask.

"Good", he replies, "he's not you, but I love him anyway." I smile. I had been upset when he'd first gotten Jason, but now I'd sort of come to terms with it. It was actually quite relieving that someone else was looking after him and the weight didn't fall squarely on my shoulders. That and Jason just needed him, as I had, perhaps even more so.

Bruce shifts his weight, still cradling me and I cuddle into his arms. We sit together in the darkness and silence, just breathing together and wishing the night could stretch on indefinitely. It is so nice to be home.


End file.
